


Hunt

by mickeysixx



Series: Undeniable Chemistry [14]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeysixx/pseuds/mickeysixx
Summary: Nothing to see here, just a young woman in a yellow sundress catching up on some relaxation time. Definitely not a spy working for a secret organisation watching a man she’s been hunting for three months drink coffee across the other side of the courtyard.





	Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the long absence! Life and health seem to get in the way frequently and my enthusiasm for writing goes down the drain. But here's another installment of this series, and hopefully there will be more to follow in the future. 
> 
> Major thanks to TheGreatKhan17 for your comments... I rediscovered my work and my mojo and this is the result
> 
> Prompt #15 - Hunt
> 
> (PS - I'm sorry if I offend anyone with the translations in this fic. If you want to correct me, please do so!)

The coffee was strong, black, and bitter but it gave Roxy the necessary jolt to the system that she was looking for. Truth be told, she’d have much prefered a nice glass of Reisling but that would have raised eyebrows at nine fifteen in the morning. Besides, she thought, setting the cup down gently on the saucer, it was actually nice once the bitterness gave way to dark smoothness. Even someone who wasn’t a coffee connoisseur could appreciate the difference between instant Nescafé and freshly ground South American beans, farmed locally so the sign by the cafe door said. 

Morocco had been a bust. She knew that going in. Like Harry had said, he was too clever to have left a trail so obvious. But it was a starting point; and while it had taken her a little time to find the right people to lean on to trace his destination, it had netted her some new information on his whereabouts. She’d dug for weeks, searching, following up leads that took her from one end of the continent to the other, through paradises and war zones, and she wasn’t going to give up on finding him even if Merlin _had_ been telling her to come home for days now. 

“ _Not yet,_ ” she’d said from the dodgy internet cafe in central Yemen, “ _I’m waiting on some intel that could give me his current location._ ”

“ _That’s what you in Lebanon two weeks ago,_ ” Merlin had said, “ _And a month before that in Tanzania. The only thing you’ve managed to gain is where he’s been, which isn’t doing us any good._ ”

Roxy had felt the frustration then, the weeks of pent up anger and the stress of being away from home bubbling just under the skin. “ _You think I don’t know that?!_ ” She’d growled at the jerky, pixelated picture of him on her netbook screen, “ _I’m not out here for a bloody holiday, Merlin, I’m trying to track down an internationally wanted terrorist and every lead is a fucking dead end_.”

Merlin held up a hand, his tone gentling, “ _I know, I know you are, but after what happened in Somalia I’m worried this is going to end badly._ ”

She’d touched a hand to her left shoulder, rolled it a little, felt the anger subside. The dressing came off a couple of weeks ago; it was mostly healed now but it still felt tight where the skin had had to be stitched over the wound. _Fucking bastards_. “ _A set back. And I came through ok, didn’t I?_ ”

“ _Very nearly didn’t,_ ” Merlin had grumbled, “ _And before you ask, no I didn’t tell Eggsy, and neither has Harry, but that’s only because he’s barely spent any time with him since the incident._ ”

Roxy had wanted to say more, to ask about Eggsy and Harry, but the message she had been waiting for had appeared at the bottom of her screen. She’d smiled at Merlin then, “ _My contact came through. I’ve got to go._ ”

Her contact had indeed come through. For the first time in three months she’d finally got what she needed: credible intel. 

That intel had led her here, to a beautiful cafe on the coast of Ecuador. Roxy took another sip of her coffee; the generous courtyard that sprawled across the front of the building was a trap for the early morning sun and it proved to be a popular place judging by the amount of people who had already come and gone that morning. Early morning risers grabbed a cup on their way to work or those with a bit more time on their hands sat down at one of the white clothed tables and watched the world go by. Beautiful young waiters sailed by occasionally, weaving expertly in and out of the tables delivering drinks or clearing tables, and the smell of meats and pastries wafted on the air.

Anyone would have been forgiven for assuming Roxy was enjoying her morning just like the other patrons of the cafe were; drinking fresh coffee and reading a battered old book she’d picked up in the old town. It’s what she wanted them to think. Nothing to see here, just a young woman in a yellow sundress catching up on some relaxation time. Definitely not a spy working for a secret organisation watching a man she’s been hunting for three months drink coffee across the other side of the courtyard.

He was as she remembered him from the club: tall, lean, and completely at ease. Like her, his skin held more colour than it had previously; a deep golden brown that made him even more attractive, with a wave of dark hair fluttering gently with the breeze. Roxy’s insides twisted with revulsion but her face stayed serene as she turned the page of her book. This was her job now. Her life. Tracking down terrorists and corrupt officials and dealing with them as the mission warranted. They told her in training never to make it personal, to keep emotions separate from the job. But it was hard when her mark was a sleazy fucking bastard who had hurt someone very dear to her. It was hard to keep the emotions at a distance when her Boss was just as invested as she was in eliminating him for the same reasons. 

Her mobile buzzed on the table and she glanced over just in time to see Eggsy’s name flash up. Roxy smiled, what had he sent her now? Although she’d never revealed where she was or what she was doing - something that she knew annoyed him - Eggsy had continued to send her little messages here and there to keep her spirits up. If she had time for a chat, she’d message back, but for the most part she hadn’t been able to reply to him. This one seemed to be a picture message but all Roxy got on the screen was a grey rectangle and a spinning circle. 

“Shitty internet,” she muttered to herself, closing the phone down and tossing it into her bag. She’d get it later. 

A waitress drifted by her table, which wouldn’t have bothered Roxy had it not been for the fresh cup she placed on her table. Confused, Roxy looked up and shook her head, “Lo siento no pedí esto,” she said, “I didn’t order….”

“Disculpa Señora,” the waitress said, nervously tucking dark chestnut hair behind her ear, “El hombre… the man. He give.” 

From her apron she pulled out an envelope and held it out to Roxy. Unsettled, Roxy took it slowly, “What man? ¿qué hombre?”

Blushing - god, she couldn’t have been any older than sixteen - the waitress turned and looked over her shoulder, but turned back quickly with a frown, “Él estaba ahí...”

That was when Roxy realised who the girl was talking about. 

The table she’d been watching was empty. Another waiter was clearing it and brushing it down. 

The Chemist was gone. 

“Shit. _Shit_!” She cursed, shooting up. The waitress continued to apologise in Spanish as she backed up and fled, but Roxy had no time to placate her. Grabbing her bag, she quickly made her way out onto the street, sliding on her sunglasses. The HUD overlay activated as soon as they settled onto her face, turning her world green, and without waiting she activated the comms link, following the street down onto a main road already crammed with cars and pedestrians and cyclists. 

“C’mon, c’mon.” She walked quickly along the road, weaving in and out of people as she went, “C’mon, pick up Merlin.”

But her answer was static and an error message on the HUD that read **Unable to Connect**. 

Adrenaline rising, she cross the road and followed the flow of traffic, trying to find any glimpse of him she could. On instinct she went left, turning into a small side street between two tall colourful buildings, and caught sight of him just as he rounded the next corner. With a flash of determination, Roxy followed, reaching under her sundress for the gun strapped to her thigh. She tried the comms link once more. Still nothing. 

_Ok, Rox. You’re on your own._

She turned the corner. 

She expected gunfire or one of his bodyguards to rush her, keeping her busy to give their boss a chance to get away. But she didn’t expect him to still be there when she turned into the other side street. 

His stance was easy, arms linked behind his back in a casual manner. The lightweight blue shirt and tailored trousers looked as pristine as they did first thing that morning when he’d taken a seat in the cafe courtyard. He looked like a model who had just stepped off a runway. 

“You’re right,” he said, smiling serenely at her, “The internet is rather shitty here.” 

Before she could answer him, a sharp sting zapped the side of her neck and that was all The Chemist needed to step forward and disarm her. Roxy struggled against him, her training kicking in instantly to break his hold on her and to knock him back a few steps. But even as she started forward, intent on taking him down, her vision blurred. Warning bells went off in her head - _oh shit shit shit_ \- but it was too late. Roxy reached out, fingers scraping along the rough wall, trying to regain her balance.

“You… you bastard,” she hissed, feeling her body shut down. 

Through fuzzy vision she watched as he approached her, showing two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth as he smirked at her, “Yes, I am. Now say “night night”.”

And she was gone.

\-----------------------------------------------

A drummer was beating against her skull. The insistent _thump thump thump_ was loud and painful and it was all she could hear. It spread from the back of her head to behind her eyes as she pulled herself from the dark, getting louder as she forced her eyes open. The world was blurry and tilted strangely, too bright and too painful but Roxy pusheed through it with a grunt, fighting her natural instinct to curl into a ball and cry.

She’d had hangovers in the past; bad ones, ones where she’s been hunched over the toilet, dry heaving and feeling like death. But right now she would take any one of those hangovers if it meant she didn’t feel like this. Every muscle in her body screamed but she clenched her teeth and moved anyway, pushing herself up on shaking arms, shifting, sliding until she was upright. The world was spinning around her, her head felt like it was going to explode, but she stilled, and she breathed through it, until finally she could open her eyes without crying out in pain.

It took a moment for her vision to fully clear. When it did, she realised she was back in her hotel room; perched on the end of the queen sized bed, the sheets caught in a deathgrip under her hands. Consciously she relaxed them, uncurling them to push her hair out of her face and look around. Bewildered and in pain, she wondered how the hell-

Nausea rolled over her like a tidal wave and she had just enough time to lurch forward, burning her knees on the carpet, before she ejected the contents of her stomach into the waste paper basket in the corner of the room. Roxy heaved until her muscles ached, until she shook from head to toe, until she finally had nothing left to give; she rocked back on her heels and panted, spitting the taste of vomit from her mouth as best she could before she taking stock of the situation.

The Chemist had drugged her. Caught her and drugged her. Roxy pushed her hair back from her face and looked around the plush room; nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Her bed was still made, only wrinkled from where she had been lying on the covers, presumably from where he or his cronies dumped her. A wild part of her mind suddenly raced with that implication, heart in her throat, oh god, what if… Roxy swiftly clamped down on the panic, forced herself to breathe deeply. No. _That_ hadn’t happened. She would have felt it. She would know. 

“Ok, Rox,” she said to herself, “You’re alive. Now move.”

Using the wall for leverage, Roxy heaved herself up on shaking legs and staggered over to the desk where she had set up her laptop. Nothing was missing; the computer and the black box that served as a secure hot-spot connection were exactly as she left them, her Kingsman glasses folded nearly to the left. The only difference was the large white envelope that lay across the keyboard. As Roxy lowered herself to the chair beside the desk, she felt dread sink in. The waitress had given it to her before she went after… _No_ , she thought, _**he’d** given it to her to give to me._ She picked it up. Just a plain envelope, no address or writing. With trepidation, Roxy opened it.

Inside was a single photograph. Black and white, glossy paper. It shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary. It was just a candid of a family at a park; a woman laughing at a young man pushing a toddler on a swing. 

But her stomach trembled. She knew that park. She knew that family. 

Something at the bottom of the picture caught her eye. Three letters in block capitals written neatly on the bottom right corner of the photograph: P.T.O. With shaking hands, Roxy flipped over the photograph. 

_**You might want to check your phone now. Tick tock.** _

With a curse she tossed the picture onto the table and looked around wildly for her bag. Zeroing in, she grabbed it and turned it upside down, shaking everything out onto the bed. Panic clawed her throat as she snatched up her phone, unlocking it on the third desperate attempt, and scrolling quickly to her messages app. 

The grey box was a blur of colour now, showing that it was already half loaded. Roxy let out a growl and tapped it, willing it to load. “Come on, you fuck!”

Her heart stopped dead. The picture on her phone couldn’t have been more different to the one on the desk. Instead of a candid, this was a selfie. Instead of a happy afternoon between a family, there was one subject; his face swollen and bloody, split lips set in a grim line as a disembodied hand grabs his hair tightly.

“Eggsy….”

Stumbling back to the desk, Roxy wasted no more time in connecting to Kingsman HQ. The green logo spun around and around for what seemed like forever until finally the image of Merlin’s concerned face filled the screen.

“Roxy, oh thank God! Are you ok? What happened?”

Even in panic, the heavy brogue steadied her, and Roxy nodded quickly, swiping a hand over her face, “Yes, I’m fine. I’m ok.” She coughed to clear the stickiness from her throat, “I found him-”

Merlin moved aside as Harry came into view, “Where are you?” he asked, his face a blank, hard mask. 

“Ecuador,” Roxy answered immediately, guilt sliding down into her raw, empty stomach, “I found him in Ecuador, but he made me. Knocked me out,” She shook her head sharply, cutting herself off, “Look, I’m fine, but Eggsy-”

“He’s gone,” Harry said abruptly. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Taken 13 hours ago.”

“I figured. I got this…” Roxy uploaded the picture from her phone, “Sending now.”

Both men cursed loudly and Merlin bent down, presumably speed typing something into his computer while Harry stared holes into the image. “Running diagnostics now, see if we can pick anything up from it. In the meantime we’ve got your location and I’m preparing transport. We’re bringing you back in.”

“No!” She shot back, feeling outrage and worry tangle in her stomach, “I found him before, I can find him again-”

“Absolutely not!” Merlin retaliated, glaring at her from the bottom of the screen, “You’ve been out for 3 months already, I will not have you-”

“-Merlin, for christ sake-”

“Shut up, both of you!” Harry snapped, bringing both of them up short, “Decision is final, Lancelot.”

Roxy swallowed thickly, tasted the bitter tang of bile still in her mouth, and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Merlin will send you the details of your transport. I expect a full report the second you get back.” 

Roxy nodded again, “Yes, sir.” She went to terminate the connection, already thinking of packing her things up, as Harry stopped her again.

“Roxy,” He said, pulling her focus back to the screen. He was staring intently at her, but while his face was set and unforgiving, anger in every line, his eyes spoke of pain and worry. For Eggsy, yes, but also for her. “Are you alright?”

A sudden wave of emotion crashed through her then, but she held onto her control as tightly as she could. “I will be.” she answered, feeling her voice shake, “When we get Eggsy back.”

Harry agreed with a nod, never once taking his eyes from her, “We’ll see you soon.”

The screen went blank. Roxy let out the breath she’d been holding and swayed forward, catching herself with her hands on the desk. She trembled, feeling sick and tired and empty. She’d protested but… god, now all she wanted was to be home. She wanted to hug Eggsy and JB and Pep and sleep for a million fucking years and never think about that insane fucking bastard ever again. 

Her phone beeped. Merlin’s instructions: _Taxi in 5 minutes, plane standing by. Be careful, Lancelot._

She rubbed a hand over her face and growled in frustration, “This isn’t helping!” She stood, felt weak but steadier now that the drug had purged itself from her system, and started to gather her things. 

Now it was time for the next mission.

Operation Find Eggsy.


End file.
